


Solare

by goddity



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Doctor/Patient, M/M, Masturbation, Self-Service
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-30 01:30:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10866231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddity/pseuds/goddity
Summary: Rung is finally back to his old self after having his head blown off. Sort of. With only Whirl on his mind during his time in statis, Rung has to decide to confront his patient and his feelings.





	Solare

**Author's Note:**

  * For [donkarnage](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=donkarnage).



> happy anniversary to my wonderful, beautiful wife.

“You’ve been starin’, Doc.” 

Rung flinched in surprise. Generally he was very focused when his patients spoke to him, but he hadn’t quite felt himself lately. Part of him had attributed it to being in a vegetative-like state after Ratchet’s rebuild, while another part of him put it to being alone with his own thoughts for perhaps a bit too long. More disquieting still was that most of those thoughts had led him to thinking of the very mech in front of him - Whirl. 

“Oh?” Rung rubbed his thumb over the datapad he’d held in lap, unsure how to entirely react. “I apologize.”

“Weren’t even _listening_!” Whirl chided, leaning forward to fill the space between them. “How unprofessional, an absolute mockery of your profession. Letting yourself get _distracted_ when a patient needs help.”

“Whirl, I’m sorry.” The mockery went over the psychiatrist’s head who, in Whirl’s experience, was generally good at catching those sort of things. “I’m afraid I have been distracted.”

Whirl’s optic narrowed, suspicious of Rung’s confession. Naturally Rung was open and truthful more often than not but for it to trickle into his work was unusual. If Rung were a different mech, Whirl might have been inclined to believe that he was up to something. However, seeing as Rung was generally ignored by the crew, it was unlikely that any of them were conspiring with him. In truth Rung never really seemed to be up to much of anything. Whirl was sure that he would anticipate if Rung were actually up to something.

“Just can’t keep those optics off me, can ya Eyebrows?”

What Whirl had not anticipated was the harsh blossoming of blush flooding the doctor’s faceplates. The patient found himself at a shocking lack of words. Rung’s orange servos closed around either side of the datapad, slender orange fingers gripping the back. Behind the glasses, Whirl saw the bright blue optics shoot to the table between them, nothing on it but Whirl’s claw. 

Rung appeared to be struggling to come up with a response.

“You, uh, don’t say.” Whirl opted to fill the silence himself. “They told me that your brain module had been intact after Swerve’s little misfire.”

“It was.” Rung replied tersely, insulted by the implications. “I…. I was awake. I was alive, Whirl.”

Rung fell silent, again vanishing into this own thoughts.

“And?” Whirl prodded as he lightly clacked his claw. “You can’t start and not give me all the saucy details of how I so effortlessly seduced you without even being around!”

“...This isn’t a conversation we should be having.”

It was Whirl’s turn to flinch. To call Rung’s choice of words ‘surprising’ would have been a gross understatement. 

“Well, we’re, uh, talking about this.” Whirl said somewhat uneasily.

Rung glanced up, an unfamiliar shine in his optics. “We’re not here to talk about me, Whirl.”

“Well we’re talking about you talking about me.” The ex-Wrecker had to admit his curiosity. Rung didn’t typically keep secrets, at least not after they’d been put on the table. “You spent so much time locked up in your own head, surely you’ve got _something_ to say, Doc.”

With a hefty sigh, Rung put aside both the holopad and his glasses, removing a visual barrier between them. Without them, Whirl noticed how soft and concerned Rung’s expression was; he seemed expressive enough with just the eyebrows, exposed optics were almost overkill.

“... If you wish to discuss it, I will.”

Whirl vaguely waved his claw, encouraging the doctor. Rung sighed, resting an elbow on his knee and his chin in his hand.

“I was… alive, despite not being together. You’re right, I… I spent a lot of time in my own head, figuratively and literally. I had nothing to do but think and remember and consider things. Everything was… a blur when it happened. I couldn’t _stop_ thinking about what happened with Fortress Maximus. You told him things you hadn’t told me, you called me your friend… And I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

Whirl took the opportunity to elevate his emotional position with a bit of additional sarcasm. “Awww, that touched that we’re friends?”

Rung’s faceplates brightened. “I couldn’t put it to the back of my mind. I just kept thinking about it. Specifically, I thought about… Well, my thoughts always led me back to you, Whirl.”

The ex-Wrecker wasn’t used to people thinking about him without some sort of immediate consequence for it. It didn’t help that he’d never seen Rung like this.

The doctor was hunched forward, one hand draped over his lap and optics distant and unfocused. He was as lost in thought now as he had been before his rebuild. Whirl couldn’t say he hadn’t noticed - Rung had very specific behaviors and strangely there weren’t other mechs who behaved like him. He was so disconnected that he hadn’t been listening during one of their sessions; their first session since the rebuild, as a matter of fact. Regardless of the actual severity of the problem… It was having a real effect on Rung. 

“I was so worried about what could happen if…. If I never came back. I was worried for you. I know I’m not realistically much help but I worry about you, and I… I was worried that without me Ultra Magnus wouldn’t let you get away with quite so much. Anything could feasibly happen, and if you were hurt, if I could have been here to prevent it…

“I was trying to tell myself that things would be fine. I-I have plenty of reason to believe that life here would be perfectly content to continue without me. But I was constantly flooded with concern and fear and I had to ask myself _why_.”

Whirl’s vocalizer felt as though it had been crushed. He made an effort to speak, only projecting frantic, confused static. Rung looked at him, concerned and puzzled and trying to piece together an appropriate response. He could find no response but to continue talking.

“And when I woke up, First Aid was there. And later, Swerve came, and when Rewind took me to the bar… I saw you. I’ve… I’ve never felt something like I felt then, Whirl. It was… It was like being in cryostatsis, and when I saw you, it felt… It felt like the hot, sweet warmth of sunlight. I felt like I had been cold. Which, I’ll admit is a bit senseless, I was functioning just fine but… I saw you, and I felt warm. 

“I-I saw your optic, and I felt as if I was blinded by the sun. I… I’m thankful I couldn’t speak at the time. I wouldn’t have known what to say and I would have lost myself… Rather like I am now.”

“ _Me?_ ” Incredulous and shocked, it was all Whirl could manage. 

“Entirely. Exclusively!” Rung’s hands rested on either side of his helm, seeking a grip to express his distress. “I-I couldn’t _stop_ thinking of you! And…” Rung fell slack, shoulds and servos falling to either side of him, lightly gripping his seat. “And I still feel like I’m standing in sunlight, in this cold vacuum of space… Trying to figure out what to do.” 

The ex-Wrecker had no response for this. No typical sharp wit that was laced with venom, no self-deprecating humor that would get people to ignore him, no comforting words that might have helped Rung understand what a terrible idea this was. 

“More than anything, I wanted to get better to see you again. I felt like… If I had… Well, if I had died in that moment, I would have died with regrets. I’ve never been a terribly remorseful man, Whirl. I-I’ve lived a good life, I’ve made mistakes but done my best to correct them over the years, but.. I would have left you behind without being honest with you.

“And I have to be honest _now_. Because I don’t know what will happen tomorrow, Whirl. I… Something could happen in a blink. I could lose you. I could lose myself. And…” Rung hesitated, gathering his thoughts. “I love you, Whirl.”

Whirl stood up hastily, half transforming into an embarrassing amalgamation that was most easily described as a helicopter with legs, making his way towards the door and leaving the small orange doctor in his wake. However, the office door wasn’t quite wide enough to accommodate the size of the alt mode, and in truth… 

Looking back at Rung made Whirl want to stay. 

Rung had let his optics drop to the floor, not so dense as to misconstrue Whirl’s desire to leave. He made no effort to invite Whirl back to his seat, to argue for him to stay, to request any words from him; but was surprised that Whirl was walking back to his seat with the sharp singing of his transformation cog relieving him of his alt mode. 

“....Sorry about that.” Whirl grumbled. He wasn’t sorry about trying to leave, but he had enough social skills to know that he had to apologize. He’d never seen Rung like this; hunched over, eyebrows furrowed, cleansing fluid threatened to streak his cheeks on their way out of his optics. 

“It’s fine.” He replied softly.

“Why don’t you, uh, keep talking?”

Rung looked up, a weight on his spark he wasn’t entirely familiar with.

“Do you want me to keep talking?” 

“Do you _want_ to keep talking?”

The psychiatrist sat silent, thinking for a moment for replying with a small nod. “If you’re willing to listen.”

Whirl felt a tightness around his spark not unlike the death grip of an enemy’s servos closed around his throat. Sure, he was used to seeing mechs in pain, but the pain on Rung’s face wasn’t the sort he was generally trying to inflict. While Rung might have been a healer, Whirl wasn’t. Seeing Rung so distressed after everything Primus had thrown at him just didn’t seem fair. 

“Yeah. Go ahead, Eyebrows.”

Rung scooted forward in his seat, sitting on the edge. He pulled his hands into his lap, unable to look back at Whirl’s optic. He had known one of two things would happen: unrealistically, Whirl would have been more understanding and maybe would have shown a little compassion for Rung; realistically, he would have reacted like he just had, or would have laid on a more flirtatious tone in hopes of off-putting Rung. 

“I spoke earlier hoping… Rather optimistically, I’ll admit, that you might have…. It’s foolish of me to have expected similar emotions, I’m your doctor.” Rung sighed, having somewhat lost steam after Whirl’s attempted escape. Knowing Whirl like he did, he could tell the mech was still hoping to leave despite agreeing to stay. 

It was becoming increasing difficult not to notice his body language. 

“... I’ll admit, Whirl, I didn’t plan much further than this confession. I don’t know what I entirely expected to happen but, I… I wanted you to know the truth. I wanted you to know that I… I care deeply about you, Whirl.”

The ex-Wrecker slowly returned to his robot mode, optic unfocused and off of the small orange medic. If Rung thought saying these things was hard, he had no gravity of the effects they’d have on someone like Whirl. Whirl didn’t deserve Rung, he knew that, just like Rung didn’t deserve having to watch Whirl try to flee the conversation. Rung was a fine enough mech that Whirl didn’t see having _that_ much issue tied down to him, but…

Thoughts trickled to silence when his optic caught the intense blue glow of Rung’s spark out of his peripheral. The spark was always on display, but now the usually-dim circle had become the most powerful source of light in the room, and it felt _warm_. Rung had filled the space between them with his EMP field, and Whirl found himself surprised that he understood. It wasn’t a particular emotion, which was unusual - Whirl hadn’t been aware of the capabilities of a field like Rung’s, but given his background… He was radiating warmth and heat, and it _felt_ like the tickle of sunlight on Cybertron. 

He hadn’t noticed that he moved forward in his own seat, closer to the soft warmth of the doctor. 

“See?” Rung was standing. When did he stand? Even at his full height, Whirl hovered over him. When had they gotten so close… 

The warmth felt _heavenly_ , it felt so welcoming and inviting, it felt… Not that he used the term lightly, but it felt like _home_. 

Before Whirl could consider the consequence of his movements, he felt small, gentle servos on either side of his helm, gently pulling him closer to the warmth. Rung had taken a place on his side, admittedly a difficult position for him to get much of anything done...

“It’s felt like this since I woke up, so to speak… Every time I see you, my senses are flooded, I can’t make sense out of my processor…” 

Without a moment to object, Rung’s soft white derma had parted, brushing against his mandibles. The smaller mech hesitated for a moment, waiting for Whirl to stop him, or to make an effort to anyway, but was pleasantly surprised to feel the soft tap of a claw clicking down his spinal struts. The digits against his helm curled into soft fists, and Rung turned two, bright, unfiltered optics to his patient. The cold blue pierced him like a knife, and Whirl was _very_ familiar with the sensation. It made sense why Rung wore glasses with such powerful expressions. 

With a claw teasing at Rung’s hip, he placed another gentle kiss against the mandible, following the soft curve towards Whirl’s optic. Whirl felt his fans click on which kept Rung busy for a moment, hesitant to keep moving without some encouragement.

“Well are we doin’ this or _not_ , Doc?” Whirl managed through a thick layer of static. 

There was no denying that Rung was a handsome mech. Not anything particularly remarkable, not a speedster or anything, but cute. He had such well planned and symmetrical curves; everything about his frame was in aesthetic harmony. He was like a clock; well thought and measured movements he’d been practicing for centuries, soft round parts moving limbs in gentle and minute gestures… He was a marvel, in his own rights. Whirl didn’t imagine many mechs would agree with the sentiment but there was a beauty in Rung’s simple, circular frame. 

“Do… Do you want to do this?” Even Rung’s soft, dulcet tone had some underlying static - something he had no doubt learned to hide very well over the years. “If you’re uncomfortable I can-”

Whirl wasn’t inclined to hear another lecture on consent, instead opting to press the small doctor closer to him, close enough that he could feel the eagerness in his own field. It was hard to admit that he hadn’t cared about Rung. If he had been permitted in the medibay, he would have visited before the meeting at Swerve’s. He wasn’t likely to mention that Rung hadn’t taken offense to his pet name like he had Skids getting his name wrong. 

The thought reminded him of the warmth that Rung had projected. 

Rung’s small, diligent hands were mentally mapping Whirl’s helm, tracing every inch with a touch so gentle and light that it left Whirl wondering why Rung had never pursued a physical craft. Whirl cautiously wondered how well Rung remembered things like this; how many helms he might have mapped before they left…

The soft kiss to his antennae was enough of a reminder that it definitely _didn’t_ matter. Whirl felt that bright, sunlight warmth rush over his frame again, moving a claw over the luminous glow of Rung’s spark. Rung lifted his helm, touching his forehead to his crest. 

“Don’t hesitate to stop me….” 

Whirl make a rather convincing _pft!_ noise despite a lack of glossa or derma or mouth in general. Rung chuckled in response, a light, shy and airy sound. Whirl let the small medic press to him as best he could, planting a small kiss on his chassis, just over his Autobot symbol. 

And Whirl had a thought. And like most instances where Whirl felt he had a good idea, he acted on it almost instantaneously - and before Rung could even squeak in protest, he found himself straddling Whirl’s chassis. Rung did, however, hastily reach out to stable himself, grabbing Whirl’s pauldrons with a bit less grace than usual.

“W-Warn me next time!” Rung’s voice wavered, his usual nervous nerd personality shining through with Whirl’s sudden tenacity. 

And Whirl had another thought. A bit more scandalous, a bit more daring than he would usually attempt… But the more he thought of it, _Primus_ was it tempting. While he lamented the loss of his own hands, even now, Whirl still remembered how hands should move. 

He lightly tapped a claw over Rung’s modesty panel, watching his faceplates light up. He could see the soft surge in his spark that sent a bit of charge crackling under his armor. Despite having a rather strong command of the situation, Rung was susceptible to slipping back into being complacent.

“Open up, Doc.” Whirl mumbled, watching the flair of charge that sprung from the spark and sent a slight shock to his own armor. Apparently Rung hadn’t expected this, or was enjoying it far more than he anticipated. Whirl was satisfied by both potential circumstances. 

“A-A bit forward, isn’t it?” Rung had failed to stop the trickle of static into his voice while Whirl repeatedly tapped his claw against the panel. The soft smile he wore was enough to tell Whirl he wasn’t upset with the situation. The fact that his modesty panel shifted out of view was a better sign. 

Like most of Rung’s frame, it appeared to be original parts. Modest, simple, exactly what Whirl would have expected and more. Rung’s servos tightened around his armor as his spike decompressed, the same soft persimmon as his armor. It was decorated with a few biolights that ran along the ridges instead of small pinpricks along the sides of the shaft. His valve was similar, the lights a softer shade of blue and already glistening with transfluids. Whirl was thankful he didn’t have his own faceplate to light - a good poker face was key in these situations.

“ _Damn_.” Was the most eloquent statement Whirl could make, given the view. He glanced up as he leaned back in the seat, fans roaring when Rung’s valve slid over his cockpit and left a slick path in it’s wake. Realistically he wanted to be able to look up better, keep his eye on Rung’s expressions…. The silent gasp at the shift proved to be worth it. 

It was becoming glaringly apparent that Rung wore his glasses to better hide his expressions and Whirl perfectly understood when he saw how his optics curved at the compliment. 

The helicopter took a moment to gather his thoughts, a devilish crescent optic locking with the doctor’s. 

“Now, uh, as we’ve discussed before, I lost quite a few…. Vital pieces.” Punctuated clacking of his claws. “Honestly the parts that would make this _really_ fun. But some things, Rung, you don’t forget. And I know mechs like I know clocks.”

Rung blushed, hanging on every word.

“So you’re gonna have to do it yourself.”

If his spark had been bright before, it rivaled the sun now, shame and heat and arousal flaring out of his field before Rung could dial it closer to his frame. Given the ability, Whirl would have grinned. The sensations still danced in his own field as he watched Rung adjust his posture.

“You want to watch me self-service?” His tone would have been flat without the static whirring beneath his words. 

“Well,” Whirl gave his best impression of a shrug without jiggling the minibot too hard. He couldn’t hide the smile in his voice. “I thought you wanted me to see you. Since I lack the tools to do this myself, I need you to do it.”

Rung pursed his derma, relenting rather easily. If Whirl didn’t know any better, he would have thought that the smaller mech got off on the concept. Whirl _might_ have known a little better.

With a rough ex-vent, Rung relented, servos releasing Whirl’s pauldrons and leaving small dents in their wake. 

“Alright, then.” Rung’s smile burned Whirl’s spark in the way that no amount of overload ever would. “I’ll… I’ll do my best to follow your instructions.”

Whirls fans kicked higher, hot air rushing over the smaller mech. Whirl didn’t remember thinking of Rung like this before; legs spread, interface array exposed, glasses gone and faceplates bright. Whirl honestly had rarely given thoughts of this nature to _any_ mech but seeing Rung so eager, so willing, it only made him want more. Explicitly, more of the doctor. 

“That’s the spirit.” Whirl placed a claw against Rung’s spinal struts, eliciting a shudder and another ex-vent. “First things first… Since you’re already lubricating, lube your fingers.”

A bit hesitant, Rung obeyed. He curled a few digits, accumulating some of the transfluids from his valve and slicking his fingers with them. Both mechs noticed it wasn’t entirely enough for them to be considered properly lubricated. Whirl managed a rather impressive _tsk!_ , resting his helm on his claw. 

“Well, that’s not quite enough now is it…. Suppose you’ll have to find another way to slick them before we get much further.”

It was clear by the look on his face that Rung had an idea. Whirl recognized that kind of hesitance; Whirl knew that he was an intimidating partner and with such a colorful background, it could be difficult to say no. Rung, fully aware that he had been the catalyst for this encounter, was not inclined to turn back how, pressing his own digits to his mouth and coating them with a fine, thin, pink layer of oral lubricants. 

Clearly in no rush, Rung made a point of punctuated, slow, languid movements. Glossa delicate pressing between two digits, Rung could feel his partner’s chassis heating beneath him. Whirl’s fans roared eagerly, eliciting a moan from the smaller mech. 

Whirl had been fairly certain that even if he lived another six million years, he would have never heard such a sound come from Rung. Primus, was he glad to be wrong. 

When the smaller mech finally withdrew his fingers from his mouth, a thin membrane of solvent connected them, more than ample lubrication. Whirl reset his vocalizer, doing his best to focus on something other than the small puffs of steam from Rung’s fans.

“Better.” Whirl’s own fans worked harder to keep him from overheating. “Naturally we’re gonna focus your valve… If you can follow my directions you’ll _definitely_ see the appeal of interfacing with a clock maker.” 

Rung visibly shuddered, armor rippling against his frame. It was inappropriate to want Whirl to get his hands back specifically for this sort of behavior, but conceptually Rung rather liked the idea of a tinkerer poking around inside him. Though, he was notably quite skilled himself with his practice with models. He hoped he’d be up to snuff. 

“Okay.” Rung’s voice rippled with static, a slight quiver in his servos as he reached for his equipment. 

“Ah.” The single sound was enough to make Rung hesitate, glossy servos recoiling from their assigned task. “Can just _go in there_ , there’s a technique to this kind of thing you know,” Whirl playfully narrowed his optic. “You have to follow my directions, remember~?”

Rung lightly bit his derma, cautious enough to avoid any sort of swelling. 

“So first things first you can’t just go right in. I mean, sure you can but… Where’s the fun in that?” Whirl lightly tapped his claw down Rung’s spinal struts, groaning at the small arch he received in response. “Start with the exterior… Pace yourself. Overstimulation will just make everything else painful. It’s not worth rushing, now is it~?”

Rung was shocked by how compelling Whirl’s simple command was. He had known that Whirl had always been somewhat of a persuasive mech, but having never been on the receiving side of it… He took the slick digits, spreading his lips with the pointer and ring while gently tracing the outline of his ulterior node with the middle. Whirl’s chassis roar beneath him, engine rumbling with enough force that Rung had to use his unoccupied hand to steady himself on Whirl’s pauldron. 

Every motion from his fingers left the chassis slicker, and dipping his middle finger lower was enough to apply ample amounts of transfluid. Rung had forgotten how much gratuitous fluid he produced during interfacing, it had felt like his last encounter was centuries ago. 

The singular golden optic was transfixed on Rung’s motions, soft small circles that easily hypnotized Whirl. The soft glimmer of biolights was occasionally cut by the simple gesture and Rung’s soft, eager panting was overwhelmed by the continued roar of the helicopter’s engine. The small doctor would have been more concerned that he had manipulated Whirl into all this but the tug at his plating that came from behind was enough of a sign that Whirl was enjoying things just fine. 

Rung pressed the three fingers lower, tracing along his entrance in anticipation of Whirl’s next command.

“Wh… Whirl?” The golden optic flicked, blinking back to life before focusing on Rung’s face. It wasn’t the first time Whirl had gotten transfixed on something in Rung’s presence.

“Right, Right.” Whirl’s claw continued to trace his back. “Never took you for a dripper… Tell me about your interior.”

“Ah…” Rung withdrew his fingers for a moment, hesitate to withdraw without permission, but when Whirl made no attempt to stop them he rested the sticky servo on his thigh. “I… I have a ridged dome… just past the preliminary calipers.”

Whirl manually clicked his fans higher in anticipation, dulling his engine to better hear the doctor. His optic shuttered as he imagined partaking in Rung himself. The soft grip of the calipers as he entered, gripping and squeezing at his spike, encouraging him to press deeper. And a _dome_ , it wasn’t much of a surprise given the aesthetic of his frame. A shudder passed through him as he felt it, the ripple of curves and ridges passing under his spike, tugging at his own ridges as he pressed deeper in. The soft walls of the dome squeezed while the ceiling and floor of his valve threatened pain with too much rough movement, the perfect combination of sensations. Of _course_ he had a dome...

After that, anatomy was usually universal without modifications. Seeing as Rung didn’t have any other mods, Whirl didn’t imagine he was hiding any away in his valve. That soft chain of orbs would welcome him next - a chain gate of rippling spheres that caressed every angle of his spike before he went as far as he could. The head of his spike would press through the soft membrane that led him to Rung’s receptacle, where he’d be able to plug in. Then they would transfer data and Rung would know-

There was a painful surge of charge under his armor that sparked out of his claw and into the smaller mech, leaving Rung twitching and dripping with overload almost instantaneously. Rung blinked with a bit of panic, obviously not expecting the charge to bounce to him _or_ expecting the charge at all. His clean hand went to his face as the lights in his optics stabilized.

“Wh… Whirl are you okay?” Rung’s servo on his pauldron tightened, the armor still tingling slightly from the electricity but absorbing some of the excess. Whirl’s frame still crackled, the mech a bit incredulous that something like that could happen. Though his memories said that overloads did usually bounce off his partners… It had been long enough that he didn’t really remember.

“Uh, yeah.” He muttered through static, tracing an optic over Rung’s form. He was bent forward, close to Whirl’s helm, obviously looking for any signs of malfunction or error. Whirl couldn’t see much, but he could see the way Rung’s spike had come to sit in the puddle of slick he’d left behind on his windshield and he felt the charge flaring to life again. 

“Preliminary calipers, dome, chain gate… receptacle… Right?” Whirl saw Rung’s expression soften when he actually spoke. 

It came as a great relief to Rung. It’d been awhile since he’d experienced an overload exclusively at his partner’s charge, but Whirl could have short circuited. In truth they both could have, given Rung’s size. The fact that Whirl could speak somewhat coherently and could actively remember before the charge meant that he was probably fine. A little rough around the edges, likely still a bit high from the charge, but fine. 

“Yes, that’s… that’s right. Are you okay?”

Whirl nodded his helm, pinching Rung’s armor and effortless pulling him back onto his chassis.

“We’re not done though.” 

Rung looked incredulous “Whirl, are you certain? I don’t want you to offline or-”

“I’m fine, Eyebrows. Worry about yourself a little, you’re making a slaggin’ mess.”

Rung’s faceplates flickered, one light clearly struggling to keep up after a powerful overload. Whirl’s spark surged at the sight of a job well done. It had been some time since he’d felt so accomplished with his handiwork.

“Didn’t… Didn’t have you go on talking about those machinations for no reason. You’ve made enough of a mess, you’ll be fine… We’re going in.”

Rung’s servo returned to his crotch, a few biolights flickering instead of their soft solid blue. Apparently the overload had done more for Rung than he’d initially thought. A great topic for a session later. The grip on Whirl’s pauldron tightened as a digit pressed in, slick enough to meet with nearly no resistance. 

With a light tap to his struts Rung took the hint, pressing in another with a low groan. Whirl shuddered in response, lost to the soft _schlick_ that followed Rung’s diligent little movements. 

“D.. Describe it, Rung.”

The doctor let out a flustered gasp. “I… I can’t reach very deep…” He scooted forward, pressing the crest of his helm to Whirl’s. “But-But… I can feel my calipers, they’re rather insistent that I don’t move but… ah.. It won’t do much good to have my fingers held in place. I.. I can reach a little over half of the ridges..”

“Uh huh.” Whirl’s voice was mostly static.

“The.. The ridges are harder than I remember. R-Really rough, but the.. Surrounding interior is soft and-and exceptionally moist but given my overload…” Rung wasn’t fairing much better himself, words glitching and stuttering as he shifted, a soft whimper slipping past his dentae. “And-And I can’t reach any further.”

Whirl cursed the Senate, Whirl cursed the war, Whirl cursed every medic he’d talked out of performing repairs. Nothing seemed worth the sacrifice of giving in and getting a proper helm or proper hands but it _burned_ to watch Rung and be unable to take care of things himself. Spindle-like workman's hands, Whirl could have reached without effort, Whirl would have forced him into overload after overload until Rung threatened to offline, sticky and dripping and-

“Go deeper.”

“Whirl, I can’t-”

In one quick motion Whirl had his unoccupied claw on Rung’s wrist, and despite the limited field of motion, shift Rung with ease and had his digits pressing over the dome and towards the chain gate. Rung somewhat struggled against him, fully aware of the strain on his servos and the tug of his protoform as it stretched beyond reasonable limits. 

Primus, the benefit though. Rung had never attempted to reach deeper, make contact with the nodes that slept between the spheres that circled his servos and encouraged him closer to the receptacle. He wouldn’t reach it, no matter how hard Whirl pushed him or shifted, he wouldn’t reach that. However, reaching the chain gate was more than enough reward. 

The two digits he’d sent in hardly seemed like enough now and his frame ached for more. The two fingers searched out every node they could find among the spheres, while Rung breathlessly called out each one as he made contact. It only took five nodes before Rung was doubled over on top of Whirl’s claw, sparks dancing under his frame as a second overload overtook him, excess charge shooting through Whirl. 

Whirl shuddered, armor rippling as the charge seized him, sinking back into this seat and taking in the view of a remarkably sticky Rung on top of his equally soiled chassis. Rung ex-vented hard, spike and valve slick and shiny with transfluid that diffused the glow of his decorative biolights. He watched Rung withdraw his fingers, just as shiny. He flexed them a few times, hoping to discourage the soreness before carelessly wiping the mess on his thigh. 

Rung leaned forward, peppering the crest of Whirl’s helm in soft tender kisses and whispered thank yous, the small window to his spark illuminating the casing of Whirl’s optic - warm and bright as the sun.


End file.
